Dinner Party
by terabient
Summary: Post-SCIV. Siegfried and Hilde share a meal, and a secret.


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Dinner Party**  


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"I hope you find the food to be satisfying."

"It is excellent, of course."

"You are not saying so out of a sense of misplaced courtesy, I hope. You've hardly touched your plate..."

Siegfried is quite aware of how much - or more accurately, how _little_ - he's eaten. He has spent the greater part of the last half-hour staring intently at his food.

"If it's not to your liking..." A note of anxiety creeps into Hilde's elegant voice.

"It's fine," Siegfried assures her. "I apologize, I seem to have no appetite this evening."

Hilde falls silent. Siegfried has the distinct feeling she doesn't believe him, but he can't tell for certain. And he finds it difficult to look at her; after all, that might lead to eye contact with...

"I haven't had a dinner like this for ages," Hilde declares suddenly.

"...Oh." Siegfried takes one of the larger forks from the impossibly complex spread of silverware in front of him and stabs viciously at a hunk of beef. Blood gushes out with a satisfying squelch, darkening the plate's pristine surface.

"I did not have much time for personal pleasures," Hilde continues. "Most of my meals I took in the war room, with only my advisors and generals for company, due to - " A pregnant pause. "Due to the recently resolved conflict."

Siegfried continues mauling his beef into a pulp. _The recently resolved conflict._ Such a careful turn of phrase for so violent a war: he would not have expected such delicacy from a woman who had spoken frankly on the battlefield.

But then, he is learning a great deal of unexpected things about Hilde. And at least Hilde's sidestepping of the obvious - done more for his sake than her own - makes Siegfried feel less guilty about his own avoiding silences.

Silence settles over the dining room like a thick, wet blanket, stifling Hilde's tentative attempts at conversation. The only sound that continues unaffected is the creaking of the dinner table as Siegfried beats his food into submission.

"There's something you're not telling me," Hilde says, expelling a frustrated sigh. "Something has upset you."

_How long did it take you to figure_ that _out?_ The thought crosses his mind with unexpected venom, and Siegfried bites his tongue hard. There is no purpose to such harshness; Hilde is in a difficult position, and she deserves all the kindness he can give her. He puts the bloodied fork aside.

"Hilde," Siegfried begins, only to find he still can't raise his eyes to meet her own. He breathes in, deep and slow, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat, and finally manages to wrench his gaze from the table and look directly at Hilde, _only_ Hilde. She is the only person in the room, the only one who matters - "I fear my feelings may not be welcome, but I must - "

_**"RARORARRGGGH!"**_

Siegfried freezes. Hilde flushes scarlet, and she whips around to face the head of the table, glaring at the gaunt, corpse-like figure seated there. "Father! Must you be so rude? Your behavior is disgraceful for a king!"

The king pays no attention to his daughter's demands, choosing instead to flail against the thick ropes binding him to his seat. He claws at the chair arms, leaving great gouges in the finely carved wood, before sagging abruptly in exhaustion.

Hilde turns back to Siegfried, who sits in stony silence, his eyes fixed on the wall directly in front of him. "I apologize for my father's uncouth outburst. It must be quite trying to deal with."

"It - it is not so difficult," Siegfried says, his words falling as flat as bricks. Two weeks ago - _less_ than two weeks ago - he would have split that man...no, that _creature_...in half without a second thought.

But two weeks ago, Hilde had seen fit to absolve his unworthy soul; in return, he had sworn fealty to her cause. He would not act against her - not even in a matter such as this.

"Truly?" Hilde's voice is much lighter, much smaller than the voice that had granted Siegfried pardon only days before; she sounds even younger than her eighteen years. "Siegfried, I'm sure you've realized by now, but - there are not many people who know of my father's...condition." Hilde hesitates for a moment, then reaches across the table to grasp Siegfried's hands. "And yet...I knew I could share this with you. That you would understand. But - you will be discreet, won't you?

Siegfried is not sure if Hilde is simply being earnest, or delivering a veiled threat. He tears his gaze from the wall and looks at her intently. Her eyes have the bright, suspicious sheen of tears, but they are too dry for that: _madness,_ he thinks, and a chill runs down his spine.

"I am sure Father's health will improve soon, now that the sword is gone, but until then, I can depend on your silence, yes?" Hilde looks at him with wide, imploring eyes; she grips Siegfried's hands so tightly her nails dig into his palms. With sudden, gut-wrenching clarity, Siegfried realizes he is not addressing the Queen of Wolfkrone, or even Hildegarde von Krone: this is a plea from an eleven-year-old girl who sits at her father's sickbed and continues to hold his hand long after his body has grown cold.

"Of course you can," Siegfried says, squeezing Hilde's hands in sympathy.

Hilde offers him a tremulous smile, shy and slight but lovely all the same, and Siegfried finds himself helplessly returning it. Perhaps this will not be so difficult; if his own bloodstained past can be forgiven, surely the Fates would reward Hilde's brave heart -

The king lets out another ear-splitting shriek.

Siegfried hopes Hilde does not notice the way his hands tremble.

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(a/n: Hilde keeping her malfected father alive and locked away is mentioned _somewhere;_ i just can't remember if it was in-game or somewhere else. :D;; )


End file.
